Meaningless Impulses
by catsncritters
Summary: HPSS SLASH Harry wants to talk about something that Severus desperately does not.


Meaningless Impulses

**Author**: Adrienne Wolter (catsncritters).  
**Summary**: Harry wants to talk about something that Severus desperately does not.  
**Rating**: PG  
**Warnings**: SLASH, between Severus Snape and Harry Potter. If you notice, there is quite an age difference as well. If you don't know what slash is, you probably don't want to read this. If you do, and like it, I'd appreciate feedback, but it's in no way necessary.  
**Reviews**: appreciated--but not required. I'm in a bit of a writers' block for Switched - and I'm very stressed from web design work. Wrote it because I desperately needed a break.  
**Archive**: I don't really know how archiving works, since I've never had a story that's been archived. I'd certainly like to know if it is archived, however.  
**Noted**: This is one-shot. While the Order missions are slightly based off those mentioned in Insecurities and Reassurances, this is not a part of that set. This is... well, I wouldn't exactly call it fluff, but there's not really any plot involved, sadly.

.---.

"Quit pretending."

Pausing mid-rant, black eyes widened in surprise and then narrowed in suspicion, in one quick, fluid motion. There was a moment of tense silence in the little room that seemed, to Harry at least, exaggerated.

"What did you say?"

Snape's voice was quiet, sharp, and dangerous–it was a dare. Harry was being baited. He could easily recognize this now, after so many years of verbally sparring with the man. Was he rude enough, reckless enough to repeat what Snape was sure to think an insult?

But Harry was beyond caring. What would Snape do, take House Points from him? Little use it was, he'd already graduated. He gave a quick shrug. "I said, quit pretending." He gave the dark-haired man a meaningful look of determination.

"And what, may I ask, am I 'pretending' to do?"

It was a question meant to shut Harry up and they were both aware of this fact. The green-eyed teenager sighed. "You know what I'm talking about–"

It was not like Severus Snape to cut others off, but he found that, with this boy, it was impossible. "No. I do not."

This, Harry recognized, was the challenge.

"You do, and you know it," Harry said, leaning forward from across the desk. Snape found himself leaning back, further into his chair that he was quickly finding very uncomfortable. Getting no response, the raven-haired boy continued impatiently. "The victory, the Order celebration, the–"

"_That_ was a moment of temporary weakness, meaningless impulse. You must understand, Potter, that alcohol tends to change people."

Green eyes flashed with the same anger that black eyes already had. "I watched you, Severus. All through that damn party I watched you. It took a hell of a lot of effort to dodge all of those tipsy Order members, but I did it. And you did not drink one drop of alcohol the entire time."

There was another stretch in which neither spoke. Harry monitored the older man's expression carefully–he looked like he wanted to reach across the desk and strangle him, and yet it must've been another act. His eyes were contradicting him.

"I thought about it. I–"

"That is irrelevant, Potter." Snape's eyes glittered dangerously. Damn the Order, for making him have to work with the Potter boy. Damn the boy, for bringing it up.

It had been something unexpected and really, just plain wrong. He felt nothing for the boy... nothing whatsoever. It was a wrong place, wrong time situation, and he wasn't at fault.

And yet, Potter _had_ kissed back, after the initial shock....

Best not to think about that.

"Severus–"

"Just because I am no longer your professor does _not_ give you permission to refer to me on a first-name basis." His hand, curled into a first, had thumped onto the top of the table and come into contact with still-wet ink on Potter's parchments; Snape cursed, trying to wipe the ink off on his robe.

Harry snorted.

They happened to meet eyes and the humour and frustration of the situation was forgotten.

"Snape... I _want_ to talk about it."

The addressed wizard half-heartedly narrowed his eyes again, lip curling into a mocking sneer. "And I do not."

"I know. But I was thinking about it. And. Er."

The boy was wringing his hands. What was this? Nervousness? "What are you implying?" He didn't want to think about the possible answers.

He saw him grit his teeth, preparing, just in case, for the worst. "Sev–Sir. I want to get to know you. When you kissed me–I don't know. I–uh–didn't mind it."

Snape felt an awful little flutter in the pit of his stomach. Harry's words were followed by more silence, and Snape closed his eyes. Harry seemed to be desperately waiting for a response. One that he flat-out refused to give. He didn't feel anything but disgust for the boy, damnit.

"Severus?"

Several minutes passed. He opened his eyes, sighing heavily. Damn green eyes, looking so innocent. He really didn't want to be having this discussion. "I don't know what you want me to tell you, Potter." He swallowed dryly, unclenching his fist, feeling that the ink had, by now, dried into a crust.

"Why did you kiss me?"

"I don't know." He sneered again, "I act badly on impulse?" Here he gave a bitter laugh. "I am a solitary person, Potter, and far too old for you to be harboring anything resembling infatuation for me. You are much better off pursuing wizards closer to your age."

"All of which will want me simply because of my name." Snape watched, unmoved. "You know, you are the one person who doesn't treat me like a–an exhibit, some freakshow on display."

"Must I remind you that I also do not want you?"

Harry winced. "Then why did you kiss me? I... I don't walk up to Malfoy and snog _him_ just for the hell of it, Severus."

Snape shifted uncomfortably. Ah, yes, of course. Compare.

"We are to be tracing Voldemort's last communications." Please stop talking.

"No." Harry plucked the stack of papers right from the man's grasp and set them on the floor next to him. "We are to be discussing why you simply refuse to let others be a part of your life!" His voice had risen.

Harry had unintentionally hit a nerve; Severus stood abruptly, chair clattering to the tiles behind him. "Because last time I tried to, it led to Death Eater initiation!"

There was a moment when they were frozen, staring at one another, and then the boy stood and broke the sudden tension. "Oh."

"You see," Snape said harshly, turning away. "_This_ is what you want so much to discuss. The conversation is over, Potter. Damn it all to hell, they locked the door."

He had tried and failed to open the door, having spun around to face it, jiggling the knob several times before giving up. Hearing the rustle of robes behind him, he turned to find that Potter had walked around the desk. "And Remus took our wands so we wouldn't hex each other..." Harry added slowly, watching the doorknob closely.

"Yes, Potter, I know." He glanced at the smaller gap between them. "What are you doing?"

The green eyes shot up to his face. "I'm not going to make you do anything you don't want to, you know. Was–was it Lucius?"

"Yes, it was. Potter–no. Alright? Just no." He backed up into the door, cursing small spaces.

"I told you that I want to talk about it. Stop trying to stop me." He drew closer still.

"There is nothing left to talk about!" Snape hissed. "Nothing at all! Something I do _not_ want to do is get into another relationship, with _you_ of all people!"

Then he was being kissed, and damn it all if he could resist returning it. The boy was only half an inch shorter than him, so Snape's arms found themselves around his waist before he realized where they were, and pulled away, banging his head on the door. His eyes fell closed again, and he hissed in pain.

"It's okay of if you liked it too, Severus."

"It is not," he gasped, eyes flying open, trying to step away. "I've done so much bad in my life." He was desperate for an excuse. Any excuse. "What would your adoring fans _do_, when word gets out that you're–"

"–Shagging my former teacher, the greasy git?" He was surprised to find the teenager grinning evilly. "Screw fame."

And for once, he listened.


End file.
